


You’re supposed to talk me out of this

by ElDiablito_SF



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Fluff, Gross, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, they're the worst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 10:43:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11919222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: Spoilers:  they don't talk him out of this





	You’re supposed to talk me out of this

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ellel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellel/gifts).



> Filling darling Elle's "You're supposed to talk me out of this" SFH prompt - just barely! I had originally forgotten to put this actual line in because my asshole Muse just took over. LOL @ me. Yuck @ them.

Silver stretched out his one remaining foot and poked right into the squishy middle of Flint’s stomach.

“Stay still,” the latter mumbled, “I’m trying to do a nice thing for you.” Flint shoved the pad of his thumb into the arch of Silver’s foot, causing a jolt of simultaneous pleasure and pain to shoot all the way up Silver’s spine, flooding him with release.

“Ahhh… _fuckkkkk_ ,” Silver emitted, his eyes falling closed, while his head hit the core of Thomas’ body behind him. “You’re just trying to distract me.”

“He’s doing no such thing, darling,” Thomas murmured softly from somewhere far above Silver, his face beaming down from his tall and stately frame. “You’re being paranoid.”

“So you’re really all right with me doing it?” Silver looked at Flint askance.

Flint, who still held Silver’s foot in his lap, drew his knuckles down the tense ligaments lining the tired arch. Silver shuddered and keened softly. His old captain was definitely deploying distraction maneuvers; he knew Flint’s antics better than anyone.

“John, you’re a grown man, who is perfectly capable of making his own decisions.” Flint looked up at Silver from under his long, golden eyelashes, and grinned like the cat who got the cream. “You’ve made the decision to come here, and you’ve made the decision to stay here. I’m sure you can equally assertively make decisions about your own body.”

“Yes, there,” Thomas cooed over Silver’s head, “you hear that? You’re a grown man, darling.”

Silver did not _feel_ like a grown man, particularly. Especially since what Thomas was doing, in between cajoling him, was plating blue ribbons into his long hair with those nimble fingers.

“But it’s not just about my body, is it? It…” Silver bit his lower lip. He was going to say _It means something,_ but in the moment realized it sounded more needy than he was willing to appear, at least at that instant. It was bad enough he was already letting Flint give him a fucking foot massage while Thomas braided his hair. They spoiled him like a small babe, truly. “You’re supposed to talk me out of this.”

“You’re our darling boy and we will love you no matter what you do to yourself,” Thomas chimed in, just in time to make Silver feel incredibly infantilized.

“Jesus, you treat me like I’m your son sometimes.”

Thomas almost choked and pulled hard on a lock of Silver’s hair. “Good God, I should certainly hope not!”

Flint, an utter bastard by nature, gave Silver a salacious smirk. “I admit, I’m not entirely indifferent to the idea,” Flint spoke, his hands continuing to work wonders on Silver’s foot while he returned to the subject at hand. “I think you wanting to do it is really ruh--” Flint trailed off on the final word.

“I’m sorry, what?” Silver leaned forward. “It sounded like you said ‘romashish’ or some such?”

“Romantic! All right? It’s romantic,” Flint huffed in indignation.

“My God, you’re so in love with me,” Silver declared with a gleam in his eye.

“Well, you are very pretty,” Thomas nodded. “There, all done.” He took a step back from Silver’s coiffure to admire his meticulous handiwork. “Unless you want me to do another one.”

“I never said I wanted you to do this,” Silver protested. “This was your own idea!”

“Our son is very petulant, James.”

The two bastards had yet another long laugh at Silver’s expense.

***

With the deed finally done, Silver reentered their shared dwelling with some trepidation. The patch of skin over his heart still radiated heat, and Silver pressed his hand to it, allowing the sensation to settle into his bones.

“John? Is that you?” Flint’s voice reached out from the recesses of the house to lure Silver in. It pulled at his belly, reeling him like a magical spool, closer and closer.

“I’m back,” he stated simply, finding Flint and Thomas in the sitting room with a book each.

Thomas’ feet were up in Flint’s lap and Silver wondered whether he too had been the beneficiary of Flint’s incredible skills while he was gone. Seeing them like this, these two men who could have thrown him out on his ass the first time he showed up to darken their doorstep, made his heart beat faster and leap into his throat. 

“Hello,” he added unnecessarily. 

“Hello,” Flint blinked up at him from the sofa. 

“Would you like some tea?” Thomas asked, jumping up and brandishing a clean tea cup.

“So…” Silver took a nervous step into the room. “I did it.”

“You got the tattoo?” Thomas glanced from Silver to Flint with a little crooked smile.

Silver’s hand again moved towards his heart, over which the newly inked skin was still tender to the touch. “Yeah.”

Flint put his book down and got up to walk over to Silver’s side. His hand brushed past Silver’s temple, caressing down his cascading curls and tugging a bit at the plait that hung neatly behind his ear. 

“May I see it?” he asked, almost timidly. 

“Yeah,” Silver said softly, moving his own hand out of the way, and allowing Flint closer into his space until the heat all but solidified between their bodies. “You may.”

Flint was careful to unwrap him, like a some kind of fanciful present, fingers gently pulling away the fabric of his shirt to uncover the little crescent moon, hanging in the unblemished sky of Silver’s tanned skin. Their eyes locked briefly and Silver swallowed at Flint’s barely perceptible nod. And then Flint pulled the shirt further aside, to reveal more ink. It was the sun, nestled into the crescent of the moon.

“You embellished it,” Flint frowned.

Silver quickly interjected, “No.” He wrapped his fingers around Flint’s wrist, keeping his hand close to his own raw skin. “I wanted to get one for both of you,” he explained, looking over at Thomas with shy trepidation.

Thomas moved, and suddenly Silver was swept up in a whirlwind of kisses that seemed to rain down on him from every direction. And if he let a tear escape his eye that night, as he lay ensconced in an impenetrable fortress of flesh and bone, with Flint’s thigh flung over his own thigh, and Thomas’ arm pressed protectively over his ribcage, it was only a tear of absolutely undeserved joy.


End file.
